Lightless
by Justifiably
Summary: After being locked up in a tower for eighteen years, Maka goes on the run with the aspiring thief, Soul Eater. They learn a bit about trust while dodging her kidnapper/adoptive stepmother (depending on who you ask), the law, and an over enthusiastic horse. The feet of cursed hair don't help either. Tangled AU for Resbang 2015
1. Prologue: Life & Death Junction

**Author Notes:** This is my entry for 2015 Resbang~ I had the joy of working with super wonderful artists, you can see Krib's paintings and Korri's music linked from my tumblr or from the Resbang master post on Grigori Wings. Infinite gratitude to both of them, and everyone who read through, edited, and commented on my documents, the helpful things and the ridiculous. Enjoy!

* * *

In the kingdom of Shibusen, situated between a forest of death and an ocean teeming with life, lived a very foolish king, and his hard faced, hard hearted queen who was languishing with child. The pregnancy was difficult, and it infuriated the queen to no end, and the king bemoaned his inability to bring his wife happiness.

Now, in this kingdom, built on a border between worlds, the foolish king loved his wife, and loved his unborn child. The queen, conversely, had little love left in her, her patience worn down by the wandering heart of the king and frustration with her failing health.

The king had heard of the witch, Medusa, who experimented with a twisted combination of magic and alchemy to give immortality and produce fantastic beasts. It was said that that was what had become of Medusa's own child, Crona - merged with the black blood of a dragon and transfigured into a basilisk of huge proportions, a ghastly thought. There were other tales too though, tales of curing the incurable. Thus the king was determined to acquire Medusa's magic and heal his ailing queen, hopefully without the knowledge of the witch. He knew Medusa could strike a hard bargain, and the price might be higher for he who banished her from the city only two years ago.

"King Spirit." The king turned his head from astride his horse where he waited at the gate to see his advisor, his alchemist, his old friend, Professor Stein.

"You know, I have to do this. Kami wants to leave Maka with me and go off on her own, I have to prove myself."

"You already named it?" Stein raised an eyebrow.

"Her."

"And you know it's a girl, how?"

"I just know."

"Going on such a dangerous expedition won't prove your love to your wife," Stein drawled and changed the subject. "It will only prove your foolhardy spirit."

"I have to try - I am named for it after all." The king grinned widely but sadly at his long time friend and colleague. He knew it was a mission that he might not return from.

It was an arduous journey to the witch's castle, but he was young enough, not too far gone from his days as a knight, to make the trek. It was a three day ride, through the forest tangled with brambles and sorrow, and through craggy rocks that howled in the moonlight.

He finally reached the witch's den; Medusa's castle branched out like the legs of a spider, and the walls had long been overtaken by cast iron snakes - many looking a little too real for King Spirit's comfort. He tied his horse to a tree and looked over the falls, trying to find an ideal area to scale them and steal Medusa's magic. He was less than successful on the first two attempts, and startled by the movement of one of the apparently enchanted snakes on the third. On the fourth attempt, he made it over the crumbling wall to the fortress by way of adrenaline fueled scrambling, then tumbled over the top into a rose bush. At least he would have some battle scars to prove he tried, the king thought to himself.

He crept stealthily through dark passageways, squinting in the low light, and convincing himself that the dancing shadows were only due to his own walking and not some mystical force. He had all but admitted that he was completely lost when he made it to a candle lit chamber. The king hoped desperately to find what he sought, for he was afraid, less of losing his life, and more of his future child becoming fatherless.

Spirit took a candle from the wall and scoured the room, completely oblivious to the woman standing in the doorway, watching his search with great amusement. Her hair was as twisted as her smile, and if the king was looking, he might have seen a forked tongue flicker past her lips, or a snake shaped shadow twist up from the floor to rest around her arm.

"You won't find it here," the woman said huskily and leaned against the doorway, regarding the king as an eagle would a rabbit.

The king jumped, startled, before steeling himself to face the witch. He had to remind himself to have courage for not only his own sake. "What do you plan to do with me?" he asked, his voice calm, collected; his body rabbit hearted.

"Give you what you want," Medusa answered casually. Her words made Spirit jolt out of his skin - he thought surely nothing could be that easy, and he was hesitant to learn the cost of her magic. He asked her the price, skeptically, certain that it would be something horrific, like the life of his first born child. But she answered simply that she only wanted her exile to be ended, and that the magic was a gift of goodwill for her reconciliation.

The king accepted her offer a little dubiously, and she sent him off with a jar of strange black liquid that she promised would cure his ailing wife and assure the safe birth of his child, who she confirmed would indeed be female.

* * *

Two months later, Maka was born into the world with a red face and powerful lungs. The king knew from that moment that she would have a lot of opinions, her first being displeasure at having been brought into the world in a pool of black blood. His queen winced at the cries of the baby and sent her out with the midwives, keeping only her closest handmaiden at her side. Spirit approached her bedside with concern and affection, but was rebuffed and sent along with the child.

He shooed the midwives away and took it on himself to wash Maka's skin. The blood was thick as molasses, oozing and sticking, clinging on like winter frost that had overstayed into spring. He was scared he'd rub her raw trying to rinse her clean, but miraculously, he found pale pink skin that blushed with her discomfort.

She was born to be dissatisfied with him.

He peeled off the last bit of dried blood that had snuck behind her ear, but her hair was still stubbornly dark. He supposed it was normal enough, his wife was a foreigner after all, with inky hair and cheekbones as sharp as her tongue.

She softened when she held Maka, her nearly otherworldly demeanor fading for only a moment when Maka cooed quietly at her touch. It was already obvious who the favorite parent would be.

"I'm tired, I want to sleep, take the baby away please," the queen said after just a moment, handing the baby back to the king without meeting his eyes. He took Maka away without hesitation, unperturbed by his wife's standoffishness; it had been months since she had looked at him with any warmth.

He took Maka into the nursery and rocked her while she fussed. He was determined to be the best father possible. He cooed in her ear, his angel, his darling, his sweet pumpkin, a slew of pet names that had been wasting away behind his lips, tucked inside his cheek and waiting to spill out. She eventually quieted under the waves of his words and the hand on her back.

Medusa stood in the doorway and surveyed the scene. She expected that the king would be startled by her presence, but he had warmed up to her being around the castle. She had been aiding the professor, Stein - an intriguing man to say the least - so the king had learned to tolerate and trust her. She had been sowing snakes since her arrival, and her malevolence was soon to come to fruition.

The king would soon understand the true meaning of reaping what you sow - he had let her root here in the first place.

"The baby is healthy?" Medusa asked, though she already knew the answer; the black blood she had given them was a strengthening agent after all.

"She certainly has a healthy set of lungs," Spirit replied and looked adoringly at his daughter. There was affection in his eyes and it set Medusa's teeth on her edge. She nodded with a convincing sense of approval and left him alone to prowl around the castle on her usual walk. Her snakes hovered by, lingering in the shadows, clinging to the cracks of stone, as they whispered along the message that the King had left the baby and gone away.

They hissed his actions, hissed his intentions and his fears, ever present in everything.

Spirit stole back to his own chambers and found his wife asleep but restless on the very far edge of the bed. They were on the edge of land after all; perhaps she was trying to cross the sea.

Her wedding ring sat on the bedside table, their names engraved darkly on it, so scarcely worn that it was still as pristine as on their wedding day. Maka's could join them - he prayed a reminder of their new daughter could keep their family together.

Spirit, Katsumi, and now Maka. The silversmith could wedge Maka's names between the other two, which were situated on opposite sides - it was all too prophetic. The castle smith was not particularly pleased with being woken at such an hour, but grumbled placations of doing the engraving first thing in the morning. Spirit left the ring with the smith - it wasn't as if his wife would notice its disappearance anyhow - and returned to their chamber. Assured that Maka was sleeping peacefully, he climbed into bed himself and drifted off.

Assured that the King wouldn't interfere, Medusa returned to the nursery with a shuffle of her robes and toyed with the black hair on the infant's head. As the witch whispered incantations, strength poured into her, for the physical manifestation of black blood in the flesh magnified its powers; it could only do so much without possessing something truly alive. She knew from experience that the specimen must be kept intact for the magic to work - her child Crona had been a failure on her part - so she carefully wrapped the child in her arms and vanished into the woods while the moon watched from behind the clouds, the only witness to her crimes.

The next morning, the king was awoken by a servant, who had found the baby gone when he had gone to stoke the fireplace in her nursery. The king howled and wept and tore apart the castle among the dogs while the queen sat up in bed. A flicker of horror passed across her stony face at the news, and she sank back into the bed. She was weary. But the deed was done: Medusa had taken the girl far and deep into the forest, where she had prepared a tower to hoard her away with all other manner of magic trinkets.

The king wailed relentlessly, filling the space left by Maka's own crying, and the Queen packed up her garments with her maid servants, put her ring on the mantle, and boarded a ship in the harbor. She said she was setting sail for a city less plagued by the woes of magic and madness.

Deep in the woods, the witch struggled as she had never struggled before. Medusa was not particularly motherly, and she did not count on the girl growing, and her opinions growing along with her, but grow she did. Maka became a young woman destined to be dissatisfied with the world.


	2. Discontent Breeds Temptation

Eighteen years later, Maka struggles to tie her masses of black hair in a semblance of a bun so she can get around her room more easily. She's spent her lifetime in this tower, and while she has learned to work around the hair problem, it's still a daily nuisance.

She's already read all of the books in the place at least twice - a few more times for some of the racier ones - but Medusa will be returning that afternoon, hopefully with a new stack of books. Maka has grown suspicious of the witch in the past two years, partly because of how she never seems to age, partly from the shifty snakes that always seem to be curled a little too lovingly around her arms, but somehow she is still dependent on the old bat.

Medusa told her that she was abandoned by her destitute parents, and that really she should be thanking her for taking her in, but Maka is a little skeptical about the whole situation and the mystery behind her dratted hair.

Maka decides to work on moves from the karate book instead. She doesn't think Medusa intended to bring her something that would teach her self defense, determined as she is to keep her helpless, but Maka figures she doesn't really pay attention to the things she brings - she certainly doesn't have the mothering instinct to sort out the sleazy romance novels from the puritanical ones. (It's been a confusing self-education for sure.)

"How's my darling daughter doing?" Medusa appears in the tower window, causing Maka to drop her book. The witch has a knack for sneaking up the vines and taking her by surprise, something she is not particularly fond of. It makes her spine tickle.

"I'm fine, Medusa."

"Oh, you know I like you to call me _Mother,_ dear," the woman purrs and Maka shudders.

"I'm fine, Mother." The word always sounds thick in her mouth; she imagines she would have called her real parents mama and papa, but mama seems a little warm for the slippery witch.

"Look at you with your glowing cheeks." Medusa pinches her cheeks and runs her oily fingers into Maka's hair. "Now you know I hate when your hair is up." Medusa unties her hard earned bun and lets the piles of hair fall to the floor.

"It's a nuisance," Maka complains, but doesn't move as Medusa runs her fingers through the length of her tresses, gleaning whatever magic she can. It makes Maka sick, knowing what she's doing; she can _hear_ the muttered incantations. At times she was tempted to cut it off when Medusa wasn't around watching her, but then she knows it's potent magic. Maybe some day it'll be useful for her too.

"Now then, I was thinking of going on a trip for a few days," Medusa changes the subject completely - Maka thinks she needs to work on her listening skills.

"Can I go?"

"Of course not, it's too dangerous out there for your weak constitution."

"I don't feel sick."

"Because you don't know any better."

Maka scowls - she knows plenty. She's read enough medical texts to know that her physical condition is perfectly normal, even above average based on her rigorous and meticulous exercise routine. But poor health is only the latest of a long string of excuses that Medusa makes for keeping her locked up, each becoming less and less convincing. Maka thinks constantly of climbing out the window on a rope of bed sheets and making a break for it, but a minimal amount of logic tells her that they're in the middle of a forest and getting lost would be the most likely outcome. Besides that, there would always be the ever present snakes to contend with.

She needs eyes and ears on the outside, but it isn't like Blair can tell her anything about anything she sees on her mouse hunting expeditions. Dumb cat.

"Anyway," Medusa drawls, "I won't be back for three days, so I thought I'd make sure you have everything you need before I leave."

"I'm fine," Maka says, words clipped as her patience.

"Alright dear, I'll see you soon then, stay safe."

Maka watches Medusa scale back down the tower, trying to judge the exact distance and how far she could get in three days. It's the perfect opportunity for a jailbreak, if fate would only drop a guide in her lap.

* * *

"Eater, this is not what we agreed to," a woman seethes from behind one Soul Eater, thief extraordinaire.

"I didn't sign any papers, Liz," he jokes, and continues a fast jog through the underbrush. He's counting his stars that the other Thompson sister has been held up by the palace guard; he won't be able to outrun Patty, and certainly can't out fight her if she catches up to him. Liz is a little less athletic than her slasher-smile sister though, and he's confident in his ability to get away and make the full bounty.

It's a little mean, he knows, but he needs to get them off his tail, just so he can sell the ring. Betrayal isn't really in his nature - they should know that - but if they knew who he's planning on selling to, they'd demand to come along, and the buyer is not someone he wants either of them to get involved with for their own sakes.

Liz isn't the only one he has to out run though; he can hear the horses behind him, as well as the shouts of the guard hot on their heels, after all. Who knew they would get so pissy about one little ring?

Soul has never taken the leader of the guard's son, The Kid, very seriously, but with dogs and horses on his side, he could be something to grapple with. Of course Soul will have to double back at some point to sell the ring in the city, but for now, he plans on putting as much distance as possible between him and Liz, The Kid, and the vicious and infamously stubborn horse known as Black Star. Soul has been on the receiving end of a swift kick from the horse enough times to prioritize avoiding him at all costs - except maybe jumping into fast moving water, which is where haphazard running has taken him.

"I'm gonna skin you, Soul Eater, you bastard!" Liz howls from an uncomfortably close distance. "We had a deal."

"We're criminals Liz, you expect me to have a moral compass?" He quickly weighs the options of jumping into the river and facing the wrath of Liz Thompson and opts for rapids. He takes his chances with a floating log and makes a break for it, bobbing down the river while watching the satisfyingly stupefied look on his ex-partner in crime's face. There would be no skinning today!

The channel is fast and smooth so he only gets smacked into a rock once and dragged over gravel twice during the course of his journey. After a few hours of riding, he slides clumsily off the log in a backwater eddy before wading to shore. It's not his proudest moment- certainly one he's glad no one is there to witness, save a very startled looking deer.

Well, a doe isn't about to go spreading rumors about him, so he feels safe stripping off his outer layers of soaked clothes and exploring his surroundings. He needs to double back west to sneak back into Shibusen, but he also shouldn't just follow the river back for one obvious, blonde, and very angry reason.

No, he would have to find somewhere to wring himself out for the night, make the trek back starting tomorrow. He's apparently in the middle of nowhere, and it's likely he will be sleeping in or under a tree, but that doesn't stop him from wandering aimlessly until nightfall hoping for something a little bit better.

Circumstance leads him to a shoddily constructed, entirely rundown tower with no doors, but a single window and enough vines to strangle a respectably sized tree. It's not ideal, but it has a roof and appears entirely uninhabited, so he makes the climb up the outside wall and hauls himself through the window.

He has about two seconds to see that the inside is rather lavishly decorated with maps and books before something hard hits him in the face and he's out like a light.

* * *

Maka heaves a heavy breath; this is not how she expected her day to go. She had been planning on redoing her hair, strategizing an escape route, and studying some maps before making a break for up a white haired man, possibly a pervert, who had snuck into her room was not on the agenda. This is not an acceptable turn of events. The man stirs slightly and a line of drool forms down his chin. There's not only a pervert in her room, but a drooling pervert - she could scream.

"Huh." He blinks up at her, confused, taking a moment to gawk at her. "What happened? Who are you?"

Too many questions. She smacks him with the frying pan again for good measure and steels herself for the next time he wakes up.

This time he looks at her silently with a confused look that settles into something more like calculating, making Maka feel vulnerable and her frying pan hand itchy.

"I'm asking the questions here, buddy," she says after he breaks the awkward silence with an expectant cough. "What are you doing here? Did you come to kidnap me? Rob me? _Molest_ me?"

"Excuse me? I'm offended."

"You just snuck into my room, naked - I should be the one who's offended."

"I'm not naked!" he corrects, indignant.

"Close enough."

"This is all a misunderstanding, can you just… put the frying pan down first."

"No way, I have half a mind to hit you with it again."

"Look here, girly, I'm a thief, not a rapist, don't get your dress in a bunch."

"How is that supposed to make me feel any better?" She brandishes her weapon of choice in a way she hopes is suitably menacing. It's hard to be menacing when you're small - she has to make up for it with sheer rage.

"Calm down, I didn't come in here to rob you; I was just looking for a dry place to sleep before I go back to Shibusen."

"Shibusen." Maka's ears perk up and her weapon lowers. "That's really far from here, right?"

"Yes, yes, so I'll be out of your hair, a safe distance from here." She doesn't know who's safety he's concerned for, but considering she's the one holding cast iron death, she's pretty sure he means his own.

"I will untie you if you take me there."

"Uh, you really want to trust a notorious thief to keep you safe on a three day hike? I'm starting to think you have a death wish."

"I'm assuming you're just a thief, not a murderer." She shrugs, wheels turning in her head. "Besides, I am proficient at protecting myself, I just need a guide."

"And what makes you think I won't just rob you blind and leave you stranded in the forest?"

"You came in with a bag - I might have done some thieving of my own." _She hasn't._

"You didn't take anything." Maka doesn't know how this stranger knows she's lying, but it definitely merits one more whack with the frying pan.

She takes a moment to rifle through his bag and stash a very expensive looking silver ring. Perfect.

"Okay, this is really getting old." Soul rolls his neck before rocking back and forth in his chair, trying to accomplish who knows what.

"You're gonna fall on your face if you keep doing that," she warns.

He does start to tip, a look of horror plastered across his face. She might not have much sympathy for him, but Maka's reflexes are too good to let him fall; she flings her arms out and stops his downward journey, righting him to an upward position.

"Now I have blackmail material, so, partners?" She reaches a hand out awkwardly but retracts it when he stares at her reproachfully. His arms are still bound at his sides, leaving hand shaking out of his immediate future.

"You still don't know that I'm not a horrible guy, out to get you."

"Just a few minutes ago you were telling me what a stand up guy you are, don't sell yourself short."

"You don't even know my name." His warnings are useless; she's determined to get as far away as possible, and this dope is her ticket out.

"What is your name then?" she asks sweetly, trying him for any more snark.

He grins, baring a set of rather pointy chompers. "They call me the Soul Eater."

"Sure, sure, I'm Maka, now let's go." She starts to grab her things and make her way to the window, leaving him still trussed up.

"Are you just going to tip me out the window tied to the chair?"

"Oh, yeah." She hastily unties the rope and hands back his satchel sans silver ring. He immediately rifles through it with a snort.

"Good pick, got the priciest bit in there." He yanks damp clothes back on indignantly.

"And the easiest to hide," she adds.

Soul just sighs in response. "I'm surprised you didn't just try to tie me up with that ridiculous hair."

"It's not that ridiculous." Maka starts the arduous task of looping her hair up several times to get the bulk of it off the ground.

Soul snorts. "You could probably lower me to the ground from this window," he says, gesturing to the ground before starting the actual climb down the thick, twisted vines.

"Well we're certainly not going to try it; I don't need that kind of scalp damage."

Hair in place, she busies herself with the fastest packing job ever, then stands at the window preparing herself for the climb. She can see him standing below while she makes the climb down, a little clumsier than she hoped. She starts to wish she had spent less time practicing martial arts and more time practicing scaling the damn thing while Medusa was away. Well, she'll never have to climb back up at least. She glances down; Blair has made an appearance and is cozying up to Soul. What a traitorous feline.

"Come on Maka, don't you know how to climb?" She hates the tone of his voice, teasing and altogether too cocky for someone with shark teeth. She wonders if they would grow back at the same rate if she knocked one out.

"I'm just fine, thanks for all your help," Maka grunts back at him. The loose parts of her hair whip around and smack her in the face, obscuring her vision and demanding attention. She would need both hands to contain the offending strands, but letting go of the vines with both hand holds is not about to happen. She ends up holding her hair back to scope out her next move and trying to make it in the moment between when she lets go and the time when her hair hits her in the face again. The vines are secure, she discovers, but the leaves are not. A misplaced hand has her falling the last five feet to the ground, landing securely on her rear. Soul snorts - she could pull that teeth punching right about now.

"You okay?" He offers a hand to lift her up, dusting her back jokingly? concernedly? She's still working on figuring out his quirks and gestures.

"Totally. Let's get a move out, cover some distance before night. Where's your horse?"

"Horse?" Soul scoffs, "what makes you think I have a horse? We're walking."


	3. Hostility Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

When Soul had woken up to madwoman with a frying pan, his first impression was that she was reckless, flighty, and did not form plans well. He _totally_ could have gotten out of the ropes if he really tried. His assessment turns out to be fairly accurate, but what he hadn't counted on was how determined she would be to follow through. Carrying all that hair around must have made her hard headed, or stupid.

"You know these woods are full of nasty things, nastier than me," he warns.

She ignores him.

"They don't call it a forest of death for nothing - besides the criminals there's monsters."

"I grew up with a witch, I'm not exactly spooked by that sort of thing."

"What was that then?" he points to a suspicious rustling in the bushes, probably a rabbit. He's seen a few oversized wolves around here, but nothing truly extraordinary.

"Probably the cat, she's been trailing around us the whole time." Maka yawns. Blair darts out chasing a rabbit across the path in front of them. It's truly uncanny.

"We should find somewhere to camp out for the night, maybe Blair will catch that rabbit for us."

"You didn't bring any food, did you?" She asks.

"I wasn't planning on ending up downstream."

She makes a noise like a tiny, disgruntled badger. "Maybe I'll share my bread with you, out of the goodness of my heart, so you'll feel really bad if you double cross me."

"If I was going to double cross you, I would have done it already."

"Yeah right, you know I could take you."

He does, more than he'd like to admit. There's power in her arms, ready to be delivered via frying pan or the knife he knows she has stashed in her pack. She does not trust him, and a small, illogical part of him wants to prove her wrong by actually following through with this promise.

He's relieved when they reach a familiar spot, a giant tree with swooping branches that conceal the inside. It's served him well in the past as a shelter, mostly from the rain.

"Here, I've camped out in this tree before, should keep us hidden." He neglects to tell her that he's more concerned about a certain law official more than some so called monsters.

"Ooh, cedar, the debris is really acidic so it keeps the underbrush down."

"I think you were stuck in that tower a bit too long."

"Uh obviously, eighteen years."

"Over protective mom much?"

"More like a crazy witch." Okay, so maybe she wants as much to do with her family as he does with his, but referring to your mom as a witch seems a little harsh, even by his standards. "Can we make a fire?"

"No!" He may be a little too hasty, but secrecy is still important. "We wouldn't want to draw attention to ourselves."

"Wouldn't it be more likely to scare away wild animals?"

"Not if they don't know we're here in the first place, now just gimme a piece of that bread and go to sleep."

"I'll sleep when you sleep."

So she was going to play _that_ game. "What kinda guy would I be if I went through your stuff in your sleep?"

"A thief, which you are. Goodnight." She answers shortly, tosses a piece of bread at his face and curls up on the opposite side of the tree.

If there's a way to angrily chew bread, he manages. If she gets a bad night's sleep because she thinks he's going to strip search her, that's her problem. He, for one, will be sleeping like a baby within minutes. He could tell himself that all night, but insomnia is a wicked mistress, and that's before the rustling and branch breaking begins. It could be Blair, pouncing on some unsuspecting mouse, but it somehow sounds more larger.

"Maka?" The sound is definitely on her side of the tree now. She isn't leaving him alone in the middle of the woods is she? Not that he cares of course; he's just fine on his own, but really, for _her_ safety, they should stick together.

Her answer comes in the form of a muffled grunt and the sound of something blunt hitting something hard and chittering. _Matches, matches, somewhere there are matches in his bag._ He wants to blame the disarray of his possessions on Maka - she had gone rooting around in here after all - but it would be a lie to say he had any organization to begin with. There is definite wrestling going on over there, making him nervous and frantic for a little light.

"Maka, what's going on over there?" His hands light on the matches and candle; they shake as he fumbles to get them lit. Two get broken before he gets the candle going and sees Maka wrestling with a spider about as big as she is. "Holy shit."

"A little help?" There's a knife on the ground that she's grasping for desperately while holding up its body with legs of steel. Damn, if he isn't at least a little bit impressed. "Soul?"

"Right." Soul whips his own short knife out of his boot with a speed that surprises him. Maybe adrenaline and fear are on his side after all. The monster waves a pair of disturbingly hairy appendages at him, hissings at the light in his hand. One leg knocks the candle to the ground while his stomach plummets. The spider has apparently decided to make Soul its next target.

By some miracle, the flame doesn't go out, but rather illuminates his descent instead. Maka has her shit together though, and while the combined weight of Maka and a ninety pound spider wrestling on top of him isn't ideal, he's still beyond thankful. His small, unassuming companion apparently shrieks like a mountain lion when in the heat of a fight. She slashes wildly at the spider's body with little effect before pinpointing its vulnerable eyes. When one of his arms gets freed by chance flailing of arachnid legs, Soul takes the opportunity to get at it from below.

It's disgusting. Spider blood is apparently pale blue, which is something he could have lived his whole life without knowing, and certainly could have lived without it getting on his freshly dried clothes. It kicks and bucks wildly with Maka clinging onto its back like she's determined to make it her steed. _What a girl._

Legs wrapped firmly around its body, she actually lets go with both hands and somehow manages to rip one of the fucker's legs off. She finally slides off, exhausted, prize in hand, while the beast rams blindly into the tree a few times before scuttling away on seven legs.

"Shit. Fuck. Fucker." Soul hisses. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Maka laughs nervously. Soul picks up the candle from the ground to see her whole body shaking violently.

"Here." Soul takes the _giant spider leg_ out of her grasp and tosses it out into the woods. "That was really something else; I wouldn't have thought a girl locked in a tower her whole life would be so proficient at…" What? Stabbing? Ripping the legs off of a monster with her bare hands? "Fighting."

"I had a lot of free time to work out." He can't help but laugh; his blackmailer turned rescuer is apparently a compact bundle of steel and rage. "Anyway, I don't think we should both sleep at the same time as long as we're without shelter and fire."

"I guess that was a bad idea."

"No shit, Soul. What were you thinking?"

He doesn't want to admit that there are other things that might be tailing them than nasties in the forest. "Why don't you get some rest then - you could use it."

"I don't think I can sleep right now, you go ahead." She shakes her head and shows off still trembling hands. "You didn't sleep yet anyway, right?"

She's right, as he suspects she usually is. He doesn't know how she knows, but she's right. He has his own fair share of adrenaline coursing through his veins, and sleep still evades him for a while. It's calming though, with Maka sitting on his side of the tree now, her back pressed against it, her breath slowly easing into a normal rate.

After seeing her go to town on a giant spider, and realizing she could have done the same to him and _didn't,_ he thinks he might just trust her enough to drift off for a couple hours.

* * *

Some time in the predawn light, Maka let herself doze for a couple hours. She had read once that as the sun rose, the beasts of the Death Forest, as it is aptly named, retreat into their holes and hiding places. So, satisfied with the growing light, she had leaned back against the tree and slept.

Soul is still fast asleep when she crashes back into the land of the living to the sound of Blair howling in her face. Her companion's face is peaceful, showing no tell of the night before, but if they want to cover any ground, she'll have to disturb him. It's amazing the cat hasn't woken him up already.

"You should be glad you were off prowling last night." She gives Blair a quick pet and turns back to her more human travelling companion. "Soul." She shakes his shoulder gently, eliciting a promising grunt from him. Much to her horror though, he just rolls over and ignores her. _Damn him!_ She has as hard a time getting him up as he had getting to sleep in the first place. A little shoving and she has him on his back, her hands at his shirt collar. There's a purplish bruise by his collar, probably from a spider leg. The memory is terrifying, but somehow exhilarating at the same time. "Soul, get up, we have to move."

"Mmm hungry."

"You are hopeless, both at being a guide _and_ self preservation. Honestly, I feel like your mother," she scolds and digs around in her bag for a bit of jerky.

"Anything but my mother," he rumbles, sitting up and rubbing his head.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Alright then, let's get a move on, cover distance and all that."

"Someone's raring to go this lovely morning." Soul jokes before stretching his jaw in a wolfish yawn. Those teeth look like they could do some serious damage.

"Of course, I want to get out of here as fast as possible, unless you wanna snuggle with anymore giant spiders?"

"Ugh. Disgusting. I don't know what business those things have having no bones."

"Well, they move through a complicated combination of muscular and hydrostatic systems inside the rigid exoskeleton," she answers simply, taking a quick drink of water out of her skin.

"Hydro-what?"

"Nevermind, let's go." She doesn't have time to explain the finer points of spider biology to this simpleton. She thinks she might cut him some slack though - he's the one who ended up underneath the thing and splattered with its body fluids. A little sympathy is in order. "You know where we're going right? I have a map in my bag."

"We just need to keep going west - we should reach a small stream that feeds into the main river. We can follow that up to an old mine-shaft, and then straight on from there." He rattles off the totally qualitative directions without missing a beat. Maka wants to number this by miles, mark off a grid on her map, maybe make a sundial for good measure. But if Soul has the spatial memory for it, she has to trust him for time's sake.

She can't help but question him just once though. "Why don't we just follow the river back?"

"If your witch mom was going to follow us, don't you think that's what she'd suspect we'd do?"

She admits he's right and follows his lead. Having some time to rest and take approximately three hours to brush her hair out would be nice, but getting out of here is top priority so the tangles will have to wait.

Soul is quiet when he walks, brooding, like he has something to hide, and his conversational skills are limited. Maka, on the other hand, is determined to climb inside his brain and figure out exactly what makes him tick. It might be the shark teeth, or the brusque but caring demeanor, or the fact that she hasn't actually been able to talk to someone her own age before, but she wants to know _everything._

"How much further is it?" she asks.

"A ways."

"What's the city like, do you live there?"

"Yes, it's shitty."

"All the books show it as being such a lively place, with a very stable economy."

"Well, I bet your books don't show all the literal horse shit," he dead pans and kicks a pebble off the path.

"Such enthusiasm." If he wants to play the snarky game, she'll get right back at him.

He doesn't respond to that one, just walks with his shoulders all hunched up like a troll, one of the really ugly ones she's seen pictures. Of course, he is definitely on the more disgustingly ruggedly attractive side than a literal troll. His jaw looks good with a little stubble.

"So how did you become a… how would you describe your job title exactly?" she asks. She has to wait for him to catch up with his meandering saunter. _It'll take a week to get to Shibusen this way!_

"Oh you know, orphan, grew up pick pocketing, joined a gang with some crazy blondes." He answers very casually, but Maka has an inkling that everything might not match up. If he'd grown up on the streets as he said, it seems like he would be a little better at fighting, a little more hardened, a little more suspicious. She's genre-savvy enough to know a proper villain when she sees one, and he doesn't quite fit the bill. She'll honor his words at face value though, weedle him open later.

"I can't picture you in a gang," she scoffs. Soul has the act of pretending not to care down to an art, but there's definitely some secret smooshiness going on in there - and he's definitely scared of spiders.

"It's really just me and the Thompson sisters, they basically adopted me. They're probably royally pissed at me though, might disown me even." He sighs, a little disappointment creeping in. "Especially since I've been gone this long, they probably think I actually ditched them."

"You're here though? Didn't you ditch them?" Maka is still piecing together what actually happened immediately leading up to him appearing half naked in her tower.

"Not for real!" He exclaims. "Just, the guy I arranged to sell the ring to, Giriko, is a really nasty guy, especially to girls."

"I'm sure these master criminal sisters can handle themselves well enough," she's almost more concerned about Soul meeting up with this guy. He was a cupcake against the giant spider; she doesn't want to think about him up against someone actually dangerous.

"Oh absolutely, but if they pick a fight with him, someone ends up hurt and we don't get the pay off. It's easier this way. If I can go on my own," Soul explains, "no one gets hurt, and nothing happens to them."

It seems like this whole scenario could have been avoided if Soul had just explained the situation to his friends, but he just chokes on his laughter a little bit when she suggests it.

"They're a little hard headed for that - they'd want to go along anyway. Kinda reminds me of someone else I know."

"I am _not_ hard headed." Her face heats up a little at the accusation.

"I didn't say it was you, you did." Soul laughs. "Sounds like you're the one who thinks that."

His laugh is low, low, low. That's it, she's keeping her mouth shut until they get to Shibusen. This albino shark boy is worming his way into her psyche, making himself _endearing._ She doesn't need to form any attachments before setting sail for somewhere as far away from Medusa as physically possible.

He just takes her new silence in stride, comfortable with the quiet, and comfortable with walking next to her until they reach the previously mentioned creek.

Maka would not describe it as a creek - a river might be more fitting - but Soul shakes his head at the suggestion. True rivers are apparently at a different level.

The stream is a little more fast moving than Maka was prepared for. If there's one thing she has no experience with, and doesn't particularly care to become an expert in based on her knowledge, it's running water. Fast moving currents, underwater nasties, boulders you can crack your skull on, there are a lot of things that could be going on under the surface level that she's not very excited about. Things she can see and fight don't have any affect on her nerves, certainly - she feels resolved in her courage after the incident of the giant arachnid - it's the unseeable that bothers her.

Soul seems entirely unperturbed though, getting a long drink of water and feeling out the depth of the stream with a stick. She almost wishes he would get some disease from lacking proper purification techniques.

"There was a lot of snow this past winter, so it's all coming down now, but we should still be able to wade across fine. I'll go across first and anchor a tow line." Maka has to admit that he might be a _little_ competent at _some_ real world activities that she herself never got the chance to practice. Obviously, she will excel though - she's sure of it. He hands her the end of a rope and sets off with the other end. "You're strong, you better pull me back if I get swept downstream." She gulps down her fear; she has a responsibility.

Even with his plan laid out, he still shudders and advances slowly into the fast, probably very cold, water. Maka reaches a hand in and confirms; snow melt is a special form of torture. Soul grimaces and walks steadily across, pack held above his head, arms shivering with the temperature. It's slow going, but he makes it across safely, without even dropping his bag.

"Okay, you ready? You might want to hold onto the rope with both hands - the water is pretty fast," he calls across to her.

"What about my bag? I have maps in there, they'll get ruined."

"Just toss it over to this side, it's not too far." He's right; it's only about fifteen feet, and she certainly has the arm strength to get it over there. What hangs between them is the knowledge that he could run with her stuff and abandon her on the wrong side of the river. She hesitates, and he knows why. "I'm not going to leave you."

"Why should I trust you?"

"I'm not that kind of guy; I don't go back on my word. Besides, I need to keep you around to fight off the spiders for me."

She knows he's placating her, but she has to trust him anyway. She ties the straps around her bag to keep the contents in their proper location, and then makes the throw of faith. Her eyes are shut when the bag hits the opposite bank; she's half expecting the rope to go slack and to be left with it as her only possession, but the tension holds. Soul isn't going anywhere.

"Okay, Maka, make sure to wrap it around your wrists and get a good grip," Soul shouts over the din of the water. "If you hold on, I won't let you get swept away."

She nods in understanding before crouching and beckoning to Blair. "C'mere kitty, we're going on a little adventure." Blair is understandably a little wary of the water - Maka has to scoop the cat up and stuff her in the top off her dress where she contentedly leans herself around one breast and clings to the fabric securely. "Okay, I'm ready."

She grips the rope tightly and steps into the turbulent water. It had only been up to Soul's waist, but she's significantly shorter than him and the frigid stream climbs higher on her body, threatening to engulf Blair. It's high up, fast, and absolutely freezing. Maka tries to feel out the shifting pebbles with her feet, but she quickly numbs and shuffles forward blindly. An unearthly yowl comes from her dress and Blair comes clawing her way out and onto Maka's shoulder, leaving a trail of tiny scratches and wetness from her now damp tail. It was not going as she planned. Having a cat perched half on her head is distracting, especially the little hooks seeking purchase to escape the torrent. Things are not working out in her favor.

"Keep moving forward, Maka, you don't want to stay in that water," Soul calls reassuringly, keeping a tight grip on the rope. Maka starts pulling herself forward rather than trying to walk; as long as she keeps her feet on the river bed, it should be fine. Her dress and hair swirl in the water, tugging her downstream, and threatening to tip her over; she's regretting not containing them more, maybe tying her dress up closer to her hips. Each step takes monumental concentration. Her foot finds purchase on a flat rock that feels sturdy enough, but in one second, when she puts her full weight on it, it tips out from under her and sends her in up to her neck.

Blair howls from her perch - there's no way for her to keep her back end out of the water - and her paws keep slipping into Maka's face. Her instinct is to reach up and grab the cat, maybe try to toss her the rest of the way across, but she knows the rope is her lifeline.

"Pull me in!" she yells, her feet scrabbling for grip on the slippery bottom.

"I'm working on it," Soul grits out, "hold on." He strains against the rope. If it was only her weight, it might have been easier, but with the added drag from her hair and wet clothes, and the speed of the river, the balance is a little skewed. For better or for worse, Maka swings around and crashes into the bank at a steeper part. Her shoulder hurts like hell but dry land is within her grasp.

She's about to reach for a solid tuft of grass when Soul stops her. "Wait for me, don't try to climb out there!"

She wants to tell him to piss off, that she's getting out of this hell-stream this very second, but a small part of her brain reminds her that he might know what he's talking about. Maybe. Soul holds the rope taught and walks along the bank, picking up the slack until he gets next to her.

"Grab Blair," she says frantically, but he ignores her.

"Blair will be fine, grab my hand." She's scared. It's not something she'd like to admit, but she's reluctant to let go of the rope. "Maka, grab my hand. I'll pull you out."

"Can't you just pull me in with the rope?!"

"If you want to get dragged along these rocks," he snaps. "Please just listen to me."

She's not in the habit of trusting people, and this man just showed up in her life barely twenty four hours ago. His hand looks sturdy though, and his eyes are blown out with concern. She hesitantly untwists one hand from the rope and grabs his wrist. His other hand wraps around her and he pulls her up while she scrabbles her feet weakly against the steep bank. Blair flings herself at dry land with an indignant hiss and scampers into a tree to clean herself. Maka topples onto the ground, knocking Soul over in the process. They both lie on the ground panting for minute before either one of them opens their mouth.

"Tell me that's the only river we have to cross?" Maka huffs. She's glad to be out of the cold water, but the air isn't much better. Her body shivers violently, even in the afternoon sun.

"Only one without a bridge anyway," he replies. "Come on then, get up and dry off." Soul tugs her onto unstable feet.

"How am I supposed to dry off?" she barks. "My clothes are completely soaked."

"My shirt is still dry." Soul starts tugging his own shirt over his head.

"You expect me to change clothes just right here?" Maka balks.

"You're wearing shorts aren't you?"

"Yeah but-"

"And no one is around."

"You're around!"

"I'll cover my eyes," he retorts. "Wouldn't want to look at your skinny body anyway." His shirt hits her in the face and he promptly turns around with his eyes covered. It doesn't help cover the blush on the back of his neck though. Shuffling from foot to foot, he stands very awkwardly, and she thinks he might be as embarrassed as she is. "Are you done yet?"

"No," she chatters. "You're too close."

His face is still pink when he whips back around. "What? You want me to go hide behind a rock or something?"

"Uh yeah that would be perfect actually."

"Fine," he grumbles and starts off down the stream. "But just so you know, this way, if I wanted to, I totally could peek."

She has half a mind to throw a rock at the back of his head if he hadn't just kinda saved her life. Totally, absolutely saved her life. Better turn her back on the direction he went off in though, just in case.

The fabric of Soul's shirt is rough, but blessedly dry, and still radiates his body heat. It's still a little dirty with spider blood, but she'll take dirty over freezing any day. It's long too, covering most of the short pants she wore under her dress. Those are still uncomfortably cold and damp, and if the shirt is long enough, she figures she might as well take them off too.

"You can come back, Soul," she yells out. His head pops up from behind a boulder to glance over. Apparently satisfied with her state of dress, he stalks back over.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Yeah, yeah, say I told you so and get it over with." She wrings her wet clothes out and lays them out in the sun in an attempt to dry them.

"Wait." He looks at her, at her clothes, back at her. "Those are your shorts."

"Yeah."

"You aren't wearing anything under that?"

"Uh, last time I checked."

"You're a lost cause," he moans and starts walking upstream, muttering something about her being raised by heathens.

"Hey, wait for me," she yells, retrieving her clothes from their perch and jogging after him. Her bag is still abandoned a ways upstream, but he grabs it before she can. "Wait!"

"Maka, quit worrying." He pauses for her to catch up. "I'm not going to leave you in the forest with my shirt and no underwear."

* * *

Shin had never really thought about whether he wanted to succeed his father or not, it's just always been assumed. Junior, The Kid, nicknames were common when you had the same name as your somewhat infamous parent. Everyone called him The Kid - his senior on the other hand they called The Executioner.

Chief of law enforcement is the actual title, but for criminals, The Executioner is a more fitting title. Now on his first solo mission, Shin is desperate to prove himself to his father and the king alike, especially since Spirit's wedding ring is at stake.

He hates to admit it, but in a sense, those Thompson sisters really got the best of him. Yesterday, his party had caught up to them in little time - even those two couldn't outrun his steed, Black Star - but they had no ring, only a steaming vendetta against their now former partner.

"Eater," Liz had spat on the ground from her chair in the interrogation room. "Somehow manages to blend in well for a little shit with white hair. I know his hiding places though, if you want to cut a deal." She dared to wink at him! The nerve!

Now she and her sister are sitting pretty at _his_ house, probably getting dirt everywhere and eating his pristine vegetables. It was a necessary sacrifice though; he's going to get that ring back if he has to let them move in permanently.

Liz had said that Eater was smart enough not to follow the river back, and would likely stay north of there and cut straight west using the old mine as a landmark. It could be a lie, but they don't have much to go on.

Black Star stomps his feet impatiently while Tsubaki tries to appease him with apple bits. He's a temperamental animal, but his handler has always had a special touch keeping a grip on him. They've been camped out overlooking the mine for what seems like hours waiting to see if their target will make an appearance, Shin's men have fanned out around the area waiting for a signal, should anyone spot him.

When Eater comes into view, Shin doesn't expect anyone else to be with him, especially not a girl. _Is she a hostage?_ She's certainly dressed like one, wearing a man's shirt like a vagrant, and her _hair._ It's as black as his own, but trails on the ground behind her like a clinging curse. Just looking at it makes him shudder. They're chatting though, amicably so, which comes as surprising. All the records described the criminal as the quiet type, appearing in Shibusen less than a year ago with no backstory to speak of. Yet, here he is, within range, talking it up with some girl. It surprises him so much, he almost forgets about the chase plan until Tsubaki nudges him.

"Oh, right," Shin startles and mounts his horse. "Let's go Black Star!"

* * *

"See, I told you we weren't lost." Soul smirks. "There's the mineshaft."

Maka squints skeptically at the dark opening. "We're not going in there are we? I'm not really in the mood for wrestling any more monsters for you."

He laughs. "No, it's just a landmark, we just have to head straight west from here." It's late afternoon and the sun marks just north of their destination with the solstice coming soon.

"Stop right there!" An unfortunately familiar voice rings out from across the stream and up the hill. Nightmare of nightmares, Kid has found them. It crosses his mind that maybe he should have mentioned to Maka that he had the law on his back, but he really hadn't thought that they would ever find them on this route. Unless one of the Thompsons had snitched on him. He supposes it might be a little deserved, seeing as he had left them with no explanation, but still, what a betrayal. He can only hope that they haven't spilled on their own hiding places as well; that would be a new level of spite.

"Just kidding, we're going in." He grabs Maka's hand and makes a break for it as Black Star comes over the creek with a gravity defying leap. That horse _has_ to be possessed by something.

The opening of the shaft is filled with shallow water, and they can hear the antsy splashing of hooves interrupting Kid's barked orders to the sizable squad he's brought along with him. Soul darts down a narrower passage, Maka in tow, praying they won't trip over anything in the darkness.

"Soul, where are we going? Who are those people?" Maka squawks as she stumbles over a rock.

Soul pauses for a second to light a candle. "I'll tell you, but right now we need to move. Do you have Blair?" An indignant meow comes as a response. The cat leaps from the shadows to perch on his shoulder, putting her damp paws all over his face a bit before he can remove her. Carefully. "Please trust me."

He holds the candle in one hand and reaches out to her with the other.

"Okay." Her fingers lace tightly with his and they're back on the move.

"There's another way out that won't send us off course, and then they'll be off my trail. Our trail."

"You don't think Medusa sent them, do you?" A stab of guilt runs through him as her grip tightens.

"Don't worry about it." He gives her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

The mine is in pretty decent shape for having been abandoned for so long, and fortunately seems not to have been reinhabited with creepy crawlies. Maybe the residual smell of humans keeps them away, or they fear tunnel collapse. Soul has never been too worried about that in his time exploring the tunnel system. The supports are all sturdy and intact; he's never been blocked off somewhere, until now.

There's another exit where they currently stand, or was another exit to be more accurate.

"You didn't get us lost did you?" Maka asks dryly.

"I am one hundred percent sure this was a way out, see look." Holding the candle closer, they can see that it's not a natural dead end. At some point there was a mudslide with the spring rain, and debris from outside has filled in their escape route.

"That doesn't help us now." Green eyes filled with apprehension stare him down. "We don't have time to dig this out - those people are going to catch up with us."

"You should go back out." Soul says suddenly.

"What? Alone? With that freaky horse? It looked ready to bite someone." She's skeptical and frustrated and it's really time for him to come clean.

"They won't hurt you," he blurts out. "In fact, they'll probably get you where you need to go a lot faster than I can."

"Who are they?"

He groans. "Law enforcement, they're after me, 'cause of the ring. Sorry, I should have told you."

"You knew they were looking for you? And you didn't tell me?"

"You have every right to be mad," he concedes. He realizes he's still holding her hand, rubbing nervous circles into the back with his thumb. It's a miracle she hasn't thrown it on the ground and run already.

"I am mad." Her voice is deathly quiet - much more threatening than yelling. "I'm mad you didn't tell me why we couldn't have a fire, why we have to take this weird route instead of following the river." He flinches. "But I'm not leaving you here after everything that's happened in the past twenty four hours."

"Maka." Her name is a sigh on his breath.

"Don't get sappy on me," she snaps. "Just think. Is there another way out?"

"Besides back the way we came, none that I know of."

"Okay, I think I know what to do." _Of course she has a plan._ She drops his hand and starts wrapping her tresses of hair around her fists, winding the strands between her fingers. "If I can just remember what she was always muttering…"

Soul has no clue what she's doing, standing holding fistfulls of her own hair with a pained expression on her face. Her eyebrows are creased together in concentration, like she's reaching for something, and then she starts to chant.

If he were to describe it, it sounds like gibberish. She's muttering something about black blood and twisted roots. It's morbid and creepy; it gets worse when her whole body starts to hum. Suddenly, her eyes flash wide open, her pupils reduced to pinpoints.

"My blood is black." She grins sickly and lifts one leg backwards at an impossible angle. Apprehension tells him to run. This is wrong. Everything is wrong. This isn't Maka. Her foot comes down against the boulder immediately in front of them and he can see the energy reverberate through it. The kick sends a shockwave through the whole mess, sending it all blowing back out explosively.

"Holy. Shit."


	4. You Clean Up Alright

"Maka?" She teeters on unstable heels. Wreckage lies ahead of them, and she stands on the brink of it. Slasher grin still firmly in place, she rocks forward. Soul can hear voices from down the passageway. "Maka, snap out of it."

"I wanna eat your soul."

"Maka you're scaring me." He tries shaking her shoulders, but that just increases the pace of her wobbling. "Shit." They don't have much time; they need to get somewhere safe, fast. The coward in him tells him to leave her behind, but there's no way in hell that's happening. _How do you pull someone out of insanity?_ Slapping her is definitely at the bottom of his list. Her eyes won't meet his - they're shot wide open like the undead.

He gives her one last shake and blows in her face for good measure. Two blinks. Her grin drops and bewilderment takes it's home on her face.

"Huh?"

He already has a solid grip on her shoulders, it's not too far to just pull her into his bare chest and wrap his arms all the way around. "Don't do that again."

"What just happened?" She wiggles a little bit. His brain kicks back into gear and he realizes he is definitely hugging her. Oh well. Worse things have happened - better make the most of it.

"You did something freaky with your hair, kicked the wall down, and went crazy."

"I maybe should have mentioned that my hair is cursed."

"It's a little weird, but I can handle it," he mutters in return, mouth very close to her ear. He still hasn't quite convinced himself that everything is fine yet. Damn it if a few life and death situations haven't made him a little unreasonably attached in a short period of time.

"Soul." She wiggles again. Maybe he should let go of her - or he could not. "Don't we still have to run?"

"Shit. Grab the cat, I know of a safe place."

Soul doesn't know whether luck is on their side or against it when rain starts to drizzle and then pour over the countryside while they book it for high ground. At least the rain will cover their tracks.

"I don't think I've been dry for more than a few hours of this whole ordeal," Maka laughs and pauses to put her shorts back on under his shirt before they can get damper from the weather. Remembering that she hasn't been wearing them since the river crossing fries his brain a little, not that the shorts cover much more. Her long slender legs are still out and about, making him tingle. Such impropriety; he kinda likes it. She shoots a grin his way mid stride before nearly stumbling on a rock.

"Keep your eyes forward, idiot," he warns, lurching to catch her, though she catches herself before he can.

Satisfied that Kid and the others must be a good distance behind them, possibly still looking for them in the mine, Soul is content to slow to a light jog. Maka, on the other hand, is delighting in the joys of running in the rain. He warns her that she'll catch a cold, but she just laughs.

"It's warm though, it's like a bath." She smiles - she's right of course, it's the kind of rain between spring and summer that you could just stand in. Or run in, if he can keep up with her. There's a safehouse of sorts they can get to, one that there's no way Liz and Patty would give up to law enforcement.

The stone cottage in question is tucked into a hill, half underground, and shielded by a birch tree, making the place effectively invisible from a distance.

"What is this place?" Maka peeks in the door. It's blessedly empty, no other travellers staying here for the night.

"It's mostly just a secret shelter, a safe place to sleep," he explains.

"So other people know about it?"

"Yeah, but no one will bother you while you're here, it's a no man's land. There's probably even some supplies somewhere around." Soul pulls the matches out of his bag, prays they're still dry enough to work, and lights a candle. Exploration of the cottage turns up blankets and firewood, but no fresh food. "See? Take something, leave something."

Maka reaches for a blanket, humming in satisfaction.

"Hey!" he protests. "You're soaked, you're just gonna get the blanket wet too. Let me make a fire first."

They're both desperate to be warm and dry, so Maka leaves him to his poor attempts at fire building to wring her hair out.

"This is going to take days to dry," she gripes from the doorway, eyeing his fire suspiciously. "You're going to smother that, you know."

"Obviously I know that." He moves the larger logs defensively. "What do you know?"

"Apparently more than you." Her whole body bumps into him as she shoulders him out of the way. "For someone who spent so much time on the streets, I would think you would be better at this."

His lies eat at him; he's gonna have to spit it out sometime, especially with what happened the last time he kept things from her. Nervousness climbs in, pools in his stomach, and holds his tongue hostage. He isn't prepared for more disapproval just yet.

Maka sits, looking all together too pleased with herself, in front of the now crackling little fire. She hangs her totally damp and dirty dress out to dry on the side of the fireplace. Blair immediately makes a beeline for the center of the hearth, selecting it as her spot to bathe herself in. "You're not worried about the smoke giving us away, are you?"

Soul tests the flue on the chimney. "The rain will cover for us."

She's silent for a few minutes before speaking again. "Soul, about earlier." He cringes, prepared for the inevitable confrontation about him hiding things from her. "When I lost myself - I didn't know that was going to happen, and I certainly didn't do it on purpose. So, I guess I'm sorry you had to deal with it." Her rambling words keep falling out, the dam completely broken. "It never affected Medusa like that when she'd try to take my power, but I guess I don't have that kind of handle on the curse."

"You're cursed?"

"Clearly." She holds up tresses of damp hair. "And not just the curse of every day being a bad hair day."

He doesn't laugh.

Maka stretches her legs out in front of her, basking in the heat. "Medusa tried to tell me I was abandoned, but I'm pretty sure everything is her fault."

"I ran away," Soul blurts out.

"From your…" Maka thinks of the right word. "...colleagues. Yeah, you told me."

"No I mean, yes, but I don't mean that. I ran away from my family."

"You're an adult, how can you run away from your family? Why don't you just go back?"

"My name isn't Soul Eater."

"Duh."

He hesitates for one more second. "It's Soleil. Soleil Evans."

"Evans." She doesn't touch the first name. "I have a family history book about an Evans family."

"That would be the one. One of eight noble families east of Shibusen, across the sea, as they will be sure to remind you on an hourly basis."

"No wonder you're so bad at making fires." She laughs in the good natured way she has where he doesn't really feel made fun of. "How long have you been over here?"

"About a year, but, Liz and Patty and everything else is the truth. That's everything."

"You're a dork." The way it comes out is almost affectionate. "Should I be calling you Soleil then? It's not bad."

"No, Soul is fine," he answers quickly. "I got used to people calling me 'Eater,' it was nice to hear just 'Soul' for once."

Even without looking at her, he can feel her eyes on him. "Your family is pretty famous - must have been pretty cushy. I don't know why you would leave that."

"There was just so much pressure to act a certain way, be a certain way. I had to get away from it. I guess it seems pretty stupid to someone like you." He wants to make a joke, brush it off, but she's still staring at him intently.

"Not stupid." She purses her lips. "Just a bit different. But then, I don't know how I would react in that situation either."

"I didn't set out planning on stealing," he's quick to explain. "It just sort of… happened. It seemed like the way to get by."

"I'm not judging. I mean, I blackmailed you didn't I?"

"After I trespassed on your creepy witch tower."

"We're a right pair of criminals." Her eyes glint with the flickering of the fire. _Is this what flirting is?_ It _has_ to be unintentional on her part. "I think my dress is dry."

"Oh?"

"So I can put it on again."

"Oh." He can take a hint. He shuffles awkwardly to the door, clearing his throat on the way out. The rain is still torrential outside, cascading off the thatching of the roof. Dark clouds have rolled their way in, blocking out whatever moon would be willing to show its face on such a night. A soul wouldn't be caught dead out in such weather. The cottage is warm though - heat from the fire radiates through the door. Somehow, he feels at home.

"Soul?" Maka nudges him forward from the door. "You can come back in."

She turns her back while he throws his shirt back on over his head, as he if he hasn't been shirtless most of the day. It's an odd dance. The woods were all barbary and a loss of social conventions, but get him in a house with a fire going and years of etiquette training come back in an instant to make him flush and trip over himself.

"I have something for you too," she says, fishing in her bag. She procures the ring she's been hiding since she first hit him with the frying pan. "You can have this back."

He panics. "This doesn't mean you're leaving, does it?"

"No, it's just me saying I know you're not going to."

He takes the ring gently from her hand, a formality at this point - a breaking of a contract and the formation of a partnership. _It's better this way._

"Are you tired?" he asks. "You can go to sleep, it's been a long couple of days."

Maka stirs out of her stupor where she sits, wrapped up in one of the woolen blankets from the cupboard. "In a bit," she answers. "I'm curious though; I want to hear about Shibusen."

For a second, he's worried that she might ask about his own home city, but Shibusen he can talk about. Shibusen is safe. He tells her of the royalty there, the near legendary story of the missing princess, stolen away by a confidant of the king.

"Hey, maybe that's me," Maka scoffs. "Wouldn't that be something?"

"It would."

"I wonder if they're around there though, my parents I mean. I hope they're doing well and that witch didn't kill them."

"I hope so too."

Soul runs his thumb over the surface of the ring in his hand, the outside smooth and molten. It's small, certainly a woman's ring. Liz had said it belonged to the king's missing queen.

He almost feels sorry for the man, holed up in his castle with no queen and no daughter. Some time in his rambling, Maka falls asleep by the fire. It happens slowly, the journey from leaning against the wall to curling up around the cat on the floor. Soul glances over her face for a moment before continuing his jewelry examination. The edge of his thumb nail brushes over something rough on the inside of the ring - an engraving? He holds it up in the dying light of the embers to make out the words, and it all falls together.

What a cruel joke the world is playing on them. Here, Maka had just been joking about being a princess, and her name is carved into the ring along with the king and queen's. If only he had paid more attention when Patty had yammered on about Shibusen gossip. His mother would probably faint if he she knew he they had been running around the forest half dressed.

Seeing her sleeping on the ground, of all places, goes against everything about etiquette he's been taught from an early age. Here he's been worrying about his noble family, when she's bonafide royalty. _Holy shit._

He grabs an extra blanket and leans against the wall next to the fireplace, eyes trained on her face. Sleep will be hard to come by tonight.

* * *

Maka wakes up to the smell of frying eggs and almost tries to go back to sleep so she can keep dreaming this dream a little longer.

"Rise and shine," Soul laughs when she tries to roll over.

"Wait? Is that real?" In a second she bolts upright. Two eggs are cracked on a flat rock next to the fire.

"Uh yeah, I went to scout around, make sure there weren't any lurkers, and found some duck eggs."

"I could eat the whole duck." Maka salivates. "Wait, there weren't any _lurkers_ , right?"

Light streams in through the windows, the storm from the previous night gone. She stands and opens the door, only to be met with an indignant whinny.

"There was one lurker," Soul says from his seat on the hearth. "My old buddy Black Star apparently ditched The Kid to go on a solo mission to find us."

Apparently incensed by this accusation, the horse stamps and tramples into the cottage. His head is only about level with Maka's, the stubby little thing.

"He's practically a pony." Maka chortles, reaching her hand out to pat his nose. The traitorous animal tries to nip her hand though, rude! "Manners!"

"Oh that horse has none," Soul comments casually, apparently undisturbed by the horse in the room. "He's kicked me in the ass more times than I can count."

"Will he follow me back out?"

"No," Soul answers, "he's here for me."

"You don't seem very bothered by this."

"What can he do? He's a horse! Ouch!" Maka whips around from the door; Black Star, ever on the attack, has taken a chunk out of Soul's hair.

She has got to find something to lure that menace out with. The answer lies in a few bushes just at the edge of the patch of forest they had come out of the night before: Evergreen huckleberries. She collects a whole handful.

"Hey, Black Star, look what I have," she calls, offering her hand out to the horse while Soul tries to get their eggs off the fire without them getting stepped on.

"Are those edible?" Soul asks.

"Yes, but that's not the point. Black Star, fetch!" She throws the handful out the door, scattering the berries to the grass. A look of betrayal crosses the animal's face before he goes trotting off in search of the discarded fruit. "That should keep him busy."

"Genius. Want an egg?"

Maka eats the whole thing in one bite, burning the roof of her mouth with no regrets. They pack up their things and pick some berries for the road, watched by the reproachful Black Star.

"Can we ride him the rest of the way back?" Maka asks.

Soul just snorts in response. "You are welcome to try."

She'll take that as a "no" then.

Blair is apparently done with the whole walking thing, so Maka lets her climb up on her shoulders, nestled under a blanket of tangled hair. There's no telling when it'll be brushed out again.

She doesn't particularly mind walking, though something about the horse following just a few yards behind them strikes her as ironic. Black Star nips at Soul's heels sometimes, as if attempting to herd him into custody.

"I'm already going where you're trying to take me, dumb animal," Soul scolds and taps the horse's forehead.

"What are we going to do with him once we get there?" Maka asks. At the moment it seems like Black Star is trying to act as their captor, though he doesn't prove any real threat to them. She'd like to prove the animal wrong by ditching him there, but she knows they can't really outrun him. It's just annoying how Black Star thinks _he's_ in charge.

"I'll just turn him into the guards at the gate; Black Star loves solo missions, this happens all the time - bet they'll even give me reward money." Soul laughs smugly.

Maka guesses he's come to accept Black Star's antics while in Shibusen, but she's just sick of the equine attitude. How can a horse have so much ego? Soul estimates it'll be a three hour walk to make it to the city - Maka decides to spend the entire time jogging just a little ahead of Soul and his harrasser.

Once the castle comes into view, Maka expresses her concern with being out in the open, now that they've merged onto a sizeable path that's quickly becoming a road. Soul just gestures ahead of them as they come over the top of a hill and it all becomes clear. The castle is at the center of a sprawling town. It starts with sparse cottages on the outer edges, growing more densely packed as the dirt road gives way to cobblestone. Their approach to the castle won't be a clearly defined one.

"Won't people be out looking for you?" Maka asks. Soul seems a little too casual for her comfort.

"At this point? The Kid won't have come back and admitted defeat yet - he wouldn't want his father turned supervisor to know he messed up." Black Star neighs and kicks his hind legs up, nearly hitting a passing woman in the head. "Sorry Blackie, it's true."

The horse balks at the nickname but Soul holds his tether steady while they continue through the winding streets to the looming fortress.

Soul waves to one of the guards as they approach the main gate; apparently they know each other.

"How's things, Eater?" The guard claps him on the shoulder with a grin. _They definitely know each other._

"Well enough - Black Star wandered off again."

"I can see that." The man takes off his helmet in exasperation, shaking free dark, dreaded hair. "I swear I don't know what they keep this animal around for." He takes the offered reins from Soul at the loud protests of the animal and passes them off to his partner. "Take him back to the stables, Harv?"

The second guard just nods in response and takes Black Star away, kicking and neighing.

"Thanks again." The first guard winks straight at Maka. "Now let's see if we can get you a reward out of today's import tax - keep you out of petty crime for the day, and maybe get some new clothes for your friend."

"I think we both could use them." Soul tugs at the hem of his own filthy and threadbare shirt.

"Nice clothes are wasted on you, but this young lady on the other hand… with a little polishing."

"Killik!" Soul hisses.

"I'm just joking, friend." Another wink to Maka and she's not sure if she should be flattered or concerned. He seems to be a good friend of Soul's though, so she figures he can't be too bad. Killik turns to dig through a bag of coins and procures a handful. "Appeasement, from today's well meaning merchants."

"Whatever," Soul huffs, taking the money. He leans over to whisper something in the other man's ear, and Maka is desperate to know what he said, especially with the grin it elicited from the guard.

"What did you say to him?" she squawks as they walk into the outer bailey.

"Oh, just meeting for drinks later, Killik is an old friend."

"I could tell," Maka scoffs, trying to tone down the jealousy as much as possible.

"We grew up together," Soul explains. "He was the son of the blacksmith, so we played together as kids, and I just ran into him over here a few months ago."

"Ah."

"Anyway, I know you must be very attached to that dress after all you've been through together, but I for one am getting something clean."

"I would object to you buying me clothes," she starts. "But seeing as you got that money through dishonest means - I see no reason for me not to take advantage of you."

"Look at you." Soul smirks, and directs her into a store. "Justifying your criminal behavior, downright illegal."

"I blame you for everything." Maka schools her scowl into a smile when the shopkeeper approaches her with piles of silvery green fabric.

"Don't mention it." Soul drops a handful of coins into her hand. "I'll be next door."

"Oh, thanks!" Maka tries to call for him but he's already out. She's not used to being touched so much, but the shop lady and her two young daughters are very friendly, and very keen on making sure she's happy with her purchases. The lady is positively horrified when she's stripping Maka down in the dressing room.

"Missy, you don't even have any proper undergarments. Were you living in a cave?" Turns out she'll be needing those too. It's a little unnerving how Blair sits in the corner watching her smugly when she's in the nude.

Maka can't say she doesn't feel more secure being wrapped in a couple extra layers of fabric, but it's a little smothering at the same time. Extra layers and god forbid a hoop skirt are turned down; the shop-lady, Marie, as Maka has learned, just sighs that at least they're going out of style anyway. It's a little long for her tastes, but pretty all the same, all sage green with dark forest piping.

Clothes paid for, Maka exits the shop to find Soul not in the shop next door as he'd said. She glances around, seeking familiar white, all the while tamping down the suspicion that he might have left her here for good.

* * *

Soul had only partly been lying about saying he would meet Killik later. It is later after all, and they are meeting. He just wanted to keep his covert reunite-Maka-with-her-father plan a secret for a little longer. It will be the surprise of a lifetime - he can already imagine her excited face. Hopefully she's happy enough that she'll overlook one last little white lie.

"So, what was it you wanted to chat about hm? Without your friend?" Killik asks. They're both standing in an alley, a few blocks from where Maka is in the shop.

"You remember coming here and hearing all about the King's lost daughter?"

"Mhm, Maka."

"That girl is named Maka."

"Sure, that's the missing princess." Killik laughs. "Nice scam, Eater."

"It's not a scam - she doesn't even know. I just found her in a tower a few days from here, and she starts talking about how she has to get out to get away from this witch."

"So that's why you brought her here?"

"Not at first, she was blackmailing me," Soul tries to explain, much to the confusion of Killik. "Look, I have this ring, see?"

Killik's eyes widen. "That's the queen's wedding ring. Holy shit"

"Yeah, The Executioner was holding onto it, that's the last job I was doing, but that's not the point. I didn't even know who this girl was - I wasn't paying attention to any of the details of that story."

"Man, it's not a story, it's _history,_ " Killik groans.

"Since when have I cared about history? All I care about is that this girl has been living in a tower with a crazy witch for eighteen years and it's about time she had a real family."

"Soleil Evans." Killik smiles. "Mr. I don't care about my family, getting all preachy - that's rich. Anyway, why didn't you say something at the gate? I could've just brought her back to the castle that very second."

Soul doesn't respond.

"Oh, don't tell me this is some self-sacrificing romantic gesture. God damnit, Eater."

"Look, she's probably going to start wondering where I am." Soul pushes his hair out of his face; he doesn't have time to deal with convincing Killik of his honesty or intentions. "I'm trusting you. Can't you just take the ring back to the King and _make him believe you_? We'll meet him at the castle dock; I have a plan."

"And I'm going to bet that plan involves going out in a rowboat at sunset for the solstice festival, and probably kissing passionately by the water while she thanks you profusely for changing her life."

"No!" Soul yelps. "Well, I wouldn't be _that_ opposed to a _chaste_ kiss - probably on the hand."

Killik just laughs at him, the bastard. "You can take the boy out of the palace, but you can't take the palace out of the boy."

"Screw you. Will you do it?"

"Yeah, yeah, go back to your princess before she starts looking for you. She seems like the kind of girl that means business."

"You have no idea."

It occurs to him that he still has to get his own clothes, so by the time he gets his new clothes paid, he finds Maka chatting with the shopkeeper outside where he had left her.

"You shouldn't keep a lady waiting, young man," the lady scolds.

"Where were you? For a bit I thought this might be my drop off point - I mean it wouldn't be awful for you to leave me in the city with a bit of money," Maka babbles.

"I was just shopping around the corner," Soul lies. He feels a little guilty that she thought he would have left her there, even if it was the minimum for his end of the deal. "I told you I'll take you all the way."

"I hoped so." She punches his arm lightly. "So, how's my new dress? Do I look like a proper citizen?"

 _It's lovely._ "It's alright."

"You know," the shoplady muses. "You would look really proper if you would let me do something with your hair." She reaches for Maka's head with capable looking hands but Maka shies away.

"Don't touch it," Maka squeaks and tugs the long tresses over her shoulder to hang in front of her.

"Sorry, I should have asked." The older blonde retreats a few steps.

"Maka," Soul murmurs, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. He leans in close to her ear to say words only for her - he knows what she's afraid of. "It's not going to hurt anyone without the spell, see?"

The tips of her ears redden. "Marie, wait! Can you really fix it?"

"I think with some help from the girls, we'll manage something."

Soul goes on an expedition to find some food while the girls set about jabbering and combing. He returns to see they've made solid progress on the giant knot that has formed on the back of her head, but have yet to even start doing much else. Maka seems to have adjusted well to socializing for being so isolated most of her life - it makes him a little jealous he can't do the same - she even has a good instinct for what things to leave out of conversation. He doesn't hear any mention of a demon hair curse at all.

"Sorry this is taking so long," Maka says suddenly. Marie and her two daughters have finally started an intricate braiding system, wrapping and twisting to get as much length up as possible. "I don't know when the ship leaves."

Soul hadn't even thought of that; he'd been so focused on his alternate plan. Ships would be leaving in the morning, but she doesn't have to know that. "We'll go tonight; besides, it's the solstice - don't you want to do some sight seeing?"

"Really? Don't you have to uh… do that thing?"

 _She really sucks at being subtle._ "It's not important. I can do it tomorrow."

"The market will be especially fun tonight," Marie says. "Lots of musicians too, just make sure you watch out for pickpockets."

"I don't think that'll be a problem." Soul snorts, eliciting a squinting glare from the woman. Maybe she did have an idea of what he did for a living. Oh well, that would all change for better or for worse tonight.

As he sees it, he has the option of either sending Maka off to see the king on her own, or he could stay with her until she actually meets him. At this point he's inclined to stay with her, even as his brain is telling him to run away for good again, maybe find a whole new city - he's done running. He knows the consequences of that choice could change his life though, depending on whether the king is feeling benevolent or not. He could be pardoned for his thievery, maybe Maka would want him around (he can hope), or he could be tossed in a cell. The first option is definitely preferable.

The girls finish up with Maka's hair, letting it hang in a wide plait that still hangs a little past her waist. "I think that's the best we can do," Marie announces with a smile. "Now go enjoy everything."

They make their way out to the marketplace set up by the water. There are fish merchants selling off of their boats moored at the docks but Maka turns her nose up at the smell of them - even the stands where they're frying them fresh from today's catch! It's almost blasphemy in Soul's book. At least the cat knows what's what when it comes to quality food.

He gets his fill of fried fish though, while Maka settles for something roasted with a bone in the middle. The way she eats is decidedly unladylike, but he doesn't have the heart to tell her off when she's enjoying the food so much.

He's going to miss her. On this longest day, at least they have a while before it gets dark out, and he'd be lying if he wasn't a little curious about Shibusen's famous lantern festival. They pass a number of musicians surrounded by small crowds dancing, and each time Maka tries to rope him into dancing.

"I bet you don't even know how to dance," Soul scoffs, denying another request.

"I read about it - and I read that _you_ should be asking _me_ to dance, not the other way around, you jerk."

"Stop asking then." He grins. "And you don't learn to dance by reading about it, you have to practice."

"Help me practice then."

"Don't wanna. Go ahead, I'll watch you make a fool of yourself."

"See if I won't!" Maka lets herself get dragged into a circle dance and to her credit, only trips twice.

She rejoins him, flushed and grinning. A young girl comes up to compliment her hair, and she doesn't even flinch away when the child digs her fingers into the massive braid.

"It's getting dark, are you ready to go?" Soul asks.

"Yeah, do you know where Blair is?"

"I'm sure she's around somewhere, probably harassing some poor fisherman. She'll catch up." Sure enough, a little black streak darts out from under a cart as soon as they start walking back towards the water.

"Is the ship at the same docks as the fishing boats?" Maka links her arm very casually with his.

"Ah, no, it's somewhere else," he lies through his teeth.

"But isn't this the port?"

"There's another one." That's only half a lie; there is another dock from the gardens below the keep, but it's generally walled off, with just a gate should any of the court want to go on a leisurely sailing expedition. The thought almost makes him gag. With Killik's help though, that gate should be open to them and he can row them straight there. "Besides, you wouldn't want to miss the lanterns, would you?"

"Lanterns?"

"For the solstice. We have to borrow a rowboat anyway, and I've heard the water is the best place to see them."

"People are weird."

"End of spring, beginning of summer, festival of lights whatever. I'm not gonna question the local traditions." Soul shrugs; he hasn't been here long enough to understand all the customs of the city. All he knows is that the two of them have perfect timing, though there had been more than a few coincidences in the past few days. He can't even picture where his life would be if he hadn't climbed in her tower in the first place, probably captured from getting stuck at a dead end in the mine.

Soul looks up from his train of thought to see Maka already paying a man for use of one of the tiny boats that are so popular to take out in the bay.

"You coming?" she calls, dumping Blair unceremoniously into the watercraft.

"Of course."


	5. Light Up Like A Fire

Maka curls and uncurls her toes in the bottom of the boat; she's shucked off her shoes in favor of being barefoot as has been her way for years. Sitting across from Soul like this is somehow incredibly intimate, even with the space between them. Especially with the lanterns still on shore, there isn't much to look at besides his face - not that it's a bad face. It's actually a very good face, all sharp sharp lines around the edges and long downy eyelashes.

He seems to be feeling a little more awkward about the situation than she is. Carmine eyes firmly avoid her, instead staring off to the side while he pretends to focus solely on rowing. She never would have guessed that he would be this easily embarrassed, judging from their first encounter and his state of undress. It makes her wonder what he thinks of her, and wonder if he hasn't really had many friends in the past. It would be comforting if maybe he were similar to her in both regards; she thinks a lot of him.

He clears his throat. "I'm surprised you're so calm in this boat after your last incident with water."

"I have confidence you're not going to tip the boat over - though you seem to be veering a little with your head turned like that."

It's a gimmick to get him to look at her, though it is true the boat has been shifting over. Lucky for her, Soul is unsuspecting and believes her, turning to face her straight on.

"You're acting weird," she points out bluntly.

"Am not."

They argue back and forth a little childishly until he gives in with a sigh. He may be stubborn, but she is clearly the more persistent one of the two of them. "It feels weird… sending you off." The words come out of his mouth slowly, as if carefully chosen, and she has to wonder if he means anything else by them.

"Ah." It's a little weird for her, too. She's known him for just three days now, but it's been such a tumultuous time she can't help but feel a little bonded - or maybe she just wants a friend after being on her own for so long with only a manipulative witch for company. She doesn't want to cheapen it; Soul is important to her. The thought crosses her mind that she could ask him to come with her, but where she's going might be a little too close to home for him. There's no telling if he even wants to stay with her anyway.

For a second he looks like he's about to say something, but he shuts his mouth quickly before pointing behind her. "They're sending the lanterns off."

Sure enough, pinpoints of light start rising towards the sky. It doesn't look like very many of them at first - at ground level they blend in with the lights of the market. But slowly, the vendors dim their own lights and look up to admire the rising glow of hundreds, maybe thousands of lanterns. There's even a smattering from the castle itself. Is it the staff there? There must surely be a large number of people employed by the royal family, or could it be the king himself? Maka finds her mind wandering to what kind of person he might be until Soul nudges her foot with his own. She looks up suddenly as he tucks the oars carefully inside the edge of the boat and leans over. The boat rocks momentarily, eliciting a tiny shriek from her before he sits back up straight, stray lantern in hand.

She had been so transfixed by the relative gloom of the castle, she hadn't even noticed the lanterns ghosting along the water's surface, barely hovering above the stillness of the bay. He hands over the low flying lantern to her and she feels it's lightness in her hands. It's simple physics of course, she's read about similar contraptions, and the potential to make larger ones that people could ride in. It's an equation of the lift from the warm air of a candle, counteracted by the weight of the paper lantern that makes it float in front of her when she gently lets go.

Perfect balance is hard to come by - with people too she figures.

Still, no amount of knowing the science behind it takes away from the magic of being surrounded by warm glowing light and facing the man who might have changed her life a little - he certainly saved it a couple of times. Soul has a funny little smile on his face when she catches his eye, and she realizes she's smiling too.

"I guess they're kinda cool, huh?" He takes the lantern from between them and sends it back off on its level flight across the water.

"Yeah."

There are other boats on the water; she can see their outlines backlit by the candle glow, but it doesn't stop her from feeling incredibly alone with him when he cups her jaw between his hands. Her lips purse of their own accord in anticipation, so sure he's going to kiss her. It makes her realize she's been waiting for him to kiss her for most of the day.

He starts to tilt her chin down, too far down though; he's going to miss entirely! Finally it strikes her that her mouth might not be the intended target when he presses his lips gently, but firmly, against her forehead. _So it wasn't going to happen after all._ It figures she can't read signs from people properly. Still, the nature of his touch doesn't stop her heart from fluttering, and her pulse only quickens when he says very gruffly, "I'll miss you."

"Soul," she murmurs his name and lifts her head up again so she can look him straight in the eye. If he's not going to kiss her, she might as well. Screw his sensibilities - she's leaving tonight and it's making her ballsy. He jolts back from her before she can plant one on him though. His hands drop from her face where his thumbs had been brushing her jaw thoughtlessly.

"We should go to the port. It's getting late," he says hastily before grabbing the oars.

"Uh, yeah, I guess I have another boat to catch."

She's still a little confused about why the boat is leaving at night, but then she figures he must know more about the particular scheduling. They row in silence towards the castle, now completely black again since the small fleet of lanterns has flown away. She supposes they don't have enough weight to tether them down. Soul picks up a stray lantern from the water and takes the candle out to light the way, for it's only getting darker the closer they get. Shouldn't there be torches, or people, or something?

Soul seems a little antsy, and from more than the abrupt end to the previous moment. Something has him on edge; Blair has her hackles raised too, hair on end much as it is on the backs of Maka's arms.

They pass through a small open gate, surely too small for a transcontinental ship to pass through. Something sinister is there; she's certain of it.

"Soul, why are we going here?" Maka asks frantically. She's quelling the fear the that boils in her stomach, threatening to make her trust waver.

"I…" he starts, "please trust me."

"I do, but something feels off."

The water tremors beneath them. Something stirs.

"Long time, no see, Maka." Hearing her name come from _that_ voice makes her stomach plummet. How was Medusa here? Soul couldn't have done this, could he?

Maka turns to look at him, her face twisted up in the no man's land between fear and rage. He just looks altogether terrified.

"Soul," she hisses. "What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know, Maka, I swear. I didn't bring you here to send you off on a ship but I didn't plan this."

"What were you planning then?!"

"Haaah… I think you might be the missing princess and I was going to reunite you with your dad, and it was going to be great. I don't know." The words fall out of his mouth in quick succession while Medusa watches from the dock with a foreboding look of amusement on her face. "I don't know what happened, Killik was supposed to-"

"Why didn't you tell me any of this?!" Maka growls. It makes her feel sick; he should know by now that she doesn't like secrets.

Soul's eyes flick up to Medusa. "Maka, do we really have time for this, isn't that your-" he thinks about his next word and picks the wrong one "-mom?"

"Oh, this is quite entertaining," Medusa chuckles from the dock. "Please take all the time you need - Maka dear, you should have listened to me when I said you couldn't handle the outside world."

"That." Maka points at the witch. "Is not my mother."

"Oh, now that stings, pet." Maka shudders at the syrupy tone of Medusa's voice. It reminds her of the lure of a carnivorous plant, like a venus fly trap waiting for a bug to crawl by and taste the nectar before it snaps shut. "Remember, I raised you."

"Tell me then," Soul snaps suddenly, a far cry from his outwardly calm demeanor. "Who were Maka's parents? You stole her, didn't you?" He accuses.

"Oh, that silly king of course - you're all very slow on the uptake." Medusa's smirk stretches into a serpentine grin and another tremor runs through the water below them.

"But how? You're here? Killik?" Soul fumbles over half formed questions.

"Oh, your dear friend did not betray you, intentionally." The witch pauses to stroke the head of a black python that has wound its way up her torso to settle around her shoulders. "But I can be very convincing." She then turns to address Maka with the most condescending smirk she's seen in her life. "Did you really think you could get away? I have eyes _everywhere,_ especially the castle. I might have lost track of you for a day or two there, but as soon as you entered Shibusen, I knew."

"You monster!" Maka shrieks and nearly lunges out of the boat at her so-called adoptive mother. Soul, of course, yanks her down before she could tip the boat over, not that it would help them in the long run.

"Oh no, the real monster is below you." Medusa's shit eating grin doesn't fade for a moment. "Haven't you met your older sibling yet? I should introduce you."

There's a little flicker of something brushing the surface of the water from below before Maka feels a nudge on the bottom of the boat. There is no doubt there's something else there with them, but what? Maka clutches the edges of the boat and Soul clutches her knees when there's a second, more pronounced, bump. Third time's the charm though, and within seconds, Maka is in pitch blackness and cold, cold, cold, flailing for something to hold onto. She knows enough to hold her breath, but she still hasn't learned to swim since her last meeting with frigid water, and the long dress certainly isn't doing her any favors.

She's drowning and something scaly has grazed past her leg more than once. If only she could see the boat, or anything. Something is grasping for the collar of her dress too - Medusa? She slaps at the hand until she hears a low voice.

"God damnit, woman - remind me to never let you go near water again."

She's gasping for air and coughing up water while Soul tries to haul her higher up on the hull of the overturned rowboat. It's a feat to accomplish with her being weighed down by her drenched hair and dress combined.

"Where's Blair?" Maka cries, the sudden realization hitting her that she too must have been flung into the water with whatever enormous, scaled thing is in there with them.

"I'll get her, can you cut your dress off? It's going to drag you down." Soul leaves his satchel on the upside down boat with her and slides back into the water to get the cat - Maka can hear a pitiful mewl from just a short distance away. Panic hits her when she processes the thought of Soul going back in the water with that thing, but there's no time to waste if she wants to help. She rifles through his water logged bag for his knife and starts haphazardly shredding off the heavy layers of fabric. She cuts herself once or twice, putting a few tears through the bottom most slip before she wriggles herself free of the thing.

Blair leaps onto her with a howl when Soul deposits her back on the boat before climbing up himself, breathing heavily and kicking his shoes off.

"What was that?" he pants.

"I told you two," Medusa calls from the dock, voice saccharine. "It's Maka's sibling - don't you wish you had gotten more than that pretty black hair? You could have been so much more, Maka."

"What the hell," Soul mutters under his breath.

Maka's confused as well. "Is she saying, whatever she cursed me with, she did to her own child?" It's too sick to even comprehend, but the evidence is there, poking at the boat again.

"Only worse - she's turned it into a monster."

"Crona has always been good at doing my dirty work for me, I don't think I even need to lay a finger on you." Medusa cackles.

"Maka, we need to get on that dock." Soul says lowly.

"And get back in the water with that thing?" Maka squeaks.

"Unless you want to stay here until it tips us in again; don't worry, I'll help you. I'm not going to leave you behind."

Maka nods. She may still be pissed as hell at him for coming up with some harebrained plot and not filling her in on it, but she can kill him after they get out of here alive.

"Give me the cat." He reaches for the terrified animal, who is loath to release her claws from Maka's clothes but equally eager to dig them into Soul's scalp. "Let's go," he grits out, cat firmly lodged on his head; at least he has that ridiculously thick hair. "Keep it nice and quiet, we don't know how good that thing's eyesight is, and it's causing enough of a ruckus, maybe - well, we can only hope."

Maka knows what they can only hope. She grips Soul's knife in her teeth and slides in.

The water hasn't gotten any warmer since the last time she was in it, but she can move a little more freely without the extra layers of fabric weighing her down. If she kicks her legs a little, and pushes along the water with her arms, she can stay afloat and move forward, albeit painfully slowly. The whole swimming thing is more intuitive than she thought, now that she's not panicking. Soul stays just a few feet in front of her, swivelling back occasionally to make sure she's still on top of the water. Even at a snail's pace, they're still safe for now though - one foe still has its monstrous head underneath the rowboat, the other stands above them, arrogant, but unaware of their location.

Once they're within range, Blair makes a flying leap from Soul's head onto the dock before darting off with a haughty yowl.

"Little kitty," Medusa purrs. "Where are the other little kittens?"

A tail splashes a ways off from where Soul and Maka tread water silently by the dock, leading Medusa off to one of the other branching docks. Maka braces her arms and hoists herself up out of the water - maybe the arm strength from excessive hair brushing had paid off. She turns to give Soul a hand up too, before yelling for the witch.

"Medusa!" she shouts, brandishing the knife. Her eyes have adjusted enough to the dark that she can see the outline of the other woman's shape on the next dock over. There's another shadow too; Crona has finally made their way out from under the rowboat and has raised a massive serpentine head from the water. Maka's stomach drops. Is it a dragon? A basilisk? She's not sure what lore to go off of, if they should be avoiding eye contact or - a burst of flame interrupts her train of thought. Definitely a dragon. The fire blast misses them by a long shot, instead lighting up the next two docks in a blaze. At least now they have enough light to see. Medusa does not look very pleased with them.

"Crona," the witch coos sweetly. "Kill the boy - we want the other one alive."

The serpent dips back under the water with terrifying speed before erupting out of the water right in front of them with a fearful snarl. Maka stands, knife at arm's length straight in front of her. If she's meant to be taken alive, she should be able to defend Soul, right? Her theory would be perfect if the beast wasn't apparently blind as a bat; living in dark water for so long hadn't done it any favors. The dragon lunges for her, mouth wide open, a maw of sickly looking fangs coming straight for her. She dodges, mostly, getting just a slash across one arm. But as it dives over the dock and back into the water, Maka takes every opportunity to draw as much blood as possible.

"Maka!" Soul yells. It's only then that she realizes she had been screaming with every slash. She's sure the water would be red if it wasn't already lit up with fire glow. He's been digging in his bag for the knife that's in her hand, but came up short with a smaller, almost needle like dagger. "Get behind me."

"No way, it's coming for you, Soul."

He downright growls at her while looking around frantically for where Crona is going to come up from next. Is he a guard dog now? "It already got you once, didn't it? Obviously it's not discriminating."

"There!" Maka spots Crona looming up again and moves to defend Soul again, but he has other ideas. One bright idea in particular is to shove her to the ground and face the beast straight on, alone, the asshole. It strikes in the split second that Maka is clambering back up from the dock, a roar forming in the back of her throat.

It's a sick fact that the only way for Soul to be able to stab the monster through the eye is for it to be close enough that a long fang drags a sickening path down his torso.

Soul groans and clutches his chest, giving the dragon a few more good shots in the head for good measure as he collapses. The serpent shrieks and shakes its head, splattering blood and salt water across them before slipping back into the water. There's no telling whether Soul has struck it down for good, or if it has simply lost the will to fight. The result is the same though; it doesn't come up for another attack.

"Soul." Maka drops back down to kneel on the dock beside him. The idiot had just sacrificed himself. "Hey, you better stay alive so I can punch you properly later."

"Sure," Soul smiles through bloody teeth. _Oh god._ His forced grin is quick to turn into a grimace though as he stares past Maka's shoulder.

A shudder runs through her, followed by a wave of goosebumps.

"That wasn't very nice, was it?" Medusa scowls down at her. "I suppose as long as that one is out of the way though." She moves to nudge Soul with her foot but Maka stops its trajectory.

"Don't you dare," she hisses. Something bubbles up in her, hot and volatile tears threatening to spill out.

"Just come along, brat - it'll be easier if you cooperate." Medusa strokes a piece of hair away from Maka's forehead. The touch makes the girl shake all the more violently.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I said no. I'm not going with you, and I'm not letting this happen to anyone else." Maka stands quickly from her kneeling position, knife in hand and ready to strike. Medusa has always been one step ahead though, hasn't she? Maka figures she should have been prepared for the witch's reflex to grab her wrist before she can make her mark.

"I'm always going to be stronger than you, Maka." Medusa reaches for the massive black braid that hangs limply against the younger woman's back. "Now come along, you wouldn't want me to use your own curse on you, would you?"

Occupied with muttering incantations, the witch is distracted enough for Maka to break her wrist free and make her next move with the knife, but this time she doesn't aim for Medusa's heart. She reaches behind her and starts sawing at her hair, starting with the part in Medusa's grasp.

"It's not my curse. You. Crazy. Bitch." Maka hacks at her hair with abandon. It falls down in chunks - there's a lot of hair to get through. It's been a bit of a nuisance, but also a long time pride of hers. It had always been a security blanket; back before she had actually used the magic, she always knew she could lean on it if she really had to. But now that she had felt exactly what it did, she wants to cut it along with her ties to her past.

Listless pieces fall from Medusa's hands as a completely satisfying look of incredulity overtakes her face. That'll teach her.

"Why you-" In a flash, her hands are at Maka's throat. "You know this way, you can't use it either? And now I have no reason to keep you alive."

"I don't need it anyway," Maka gasps, clutching at the other woman's hands, trying to peel them from her neck.

"Looks like you do, dear." Medusa smiles, her earlier arrogance making a return appearance.

Maka glances down to Soul's lifeless body desperately, forming his name silently on her lips. There's very little air left for her to even gasp with. _How could this have possibly happened?_

Everything starts to darken, and she wonders if the flames are dying down, or if it's just the edges of her vision closing in around her. Figures that awful witch would be the last thing she'd see. At least Blair got away safely.

A feral snarl comes first from the cat and second as an echo from Medusa as claws sink into her cheeks and scratch at her eyelids. Maka's ever unreliable cat has finally shown her true colors - she really does care after all!

Medusa's hands drop from Maka's neck to try to detach the cat from the back of her head, giving Maka the perfect opportunity to knock the wind out of her with the pommel of the dagger and then clock her over the head with it.

Adrenaline rushing through her, Maka slumps down to the dock in disbelief. Blair finally realizes that Medusa is in fact no longer a threat and unhooks her claws from her scalp, padding over to Maka and licking her fingers affectionately.

"What the-" Maka looks up at the words to see two men and a slew of groggy looking guards and kitchen staff. The one man, with dark red hair lank to his shoulders, stares with wide eyes.

He looks at Medusa with recognition, looks at the pile of black hair on the dock, and looks straight into Maka's own eyes.

"Maka?"

* * *

Soul blinks his eyes open slowly before making the executive decision to keep them shut. It's far too bright for his taste here, especially with how dark it's been for who knows how long. The last thing he remembers is Maka telling him to stay alive so she could beat him up properly. Oh well, now he's somewhere altogether too soft, and too white, to be part of reality. He'd apologize to her if he could.

"Soul?" A sweet voice is calling for him, but he's not ready to accept this fate yet. "I saw your eyes open, dummy."

He blinks again. There's a glowing face in front of his vision, framed with golden hair and the prettiest eyes he's ever seen. "How the _hell_ did I end up in heaven?"

"Certainly not swearing like that," the voice scoffs.

"Hng, I gotta go back and let Maka chew me out," he grunts.

"Soul, you complete idiot."

Another blink, this time a little longer. His eyes are starting to adjust to the light. Those eyes are awfully familiar, aren't they? But Maka's hair isn't blonde like this.

"Oh fuck, you're dead too, aren't you."

"No, god, you're not dead. Get over it."

"What?" His eyes open for good this time. "But what happened to your hair?"

"I cut it off." She pulls the whole length of it in front of her shoulders; it just barely dusts them. "I was a little preoccupied with witch fighting though, so I had Marie come fix it for me afterwards."

It looks so fine and silky, like something he's desperate to touch. He'd actually kind of like to touch her face too, just to make sure it's real.

"Then Medusa is?"

"Locked and chained up for good - awaiting trial for the death penalty," she answers simply, brushing a fringe of hair out of her eyes.

"I'm surprised you didn't kill her," Soul mutters.

"I'm surprised the king didn't."

"The king? Then we're… you're…"

"We're in the castle, yes. You've been out for a week. Stein had to stitch you up; you probably have a wicked scar."

He tries to dig under the bedding to find the edge of his shirt so he can take a look but Maka grabs his wrists to still them. It's only then he realizes she's actually sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Don't try to move around yet," she whispers. Her face is incredibly close to his - he could probably count her downy eyelashes - and only getting closer. _Oh god she's gonna do the thing._

He realizes her eyes are closed now and his probably should be too if this is going to happen right. And oh does he want it to happen right. When he thought he was dead, he had been kicking himself for not kissing her before he kicked the bucket, but now he has a second chance! Now her lips are on his and it's definitely not as chaste as he had originally imagined it but that is _not a problem at all._ Her mouth slants against his a little hungrily - he returns the sentiment. Despite her protesting him moving around, he still winds his fingers through her hair and it's definitely as soft as it looks. When her tongue slides against his lips though, he balks backward, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Sorry," she squeaks. "Did I do it wrong? They always said it like that in those books Medusa brought me."

He remembers she's actually as new to the idea as he is. "I don't know what kind of books you've been reading, but that was definitely not wrong at all."

"Then can I try it again?"

"Please."

He gulps; he'll be prepared this time, tongue and all; if that's what she's going for he won't complain. She's leaning in for the second time but they're interrupted by the king, of all people, poking his head in the door. Upon seeing them, the man promptly disappears with a slam of the door before knocking _loudly,_ excessively so. Apparently he's going with the 'pretending not to see anything route.'

"Oh, Maka, I was looking for you to say there's food being served." The king peeks his head in for the second time. Maka doesn't even get off the bed, shameless. Soul supposes he'll have to be ashamed for the both of them.

"I'll be there in a minute, Spirit."

"You can call me 'papa' you know."

"I'll start with 'father.' I'll be there in a few minutes."

The king leaves and Soul lets out the breath he's been holding in. "How am I not dead yet?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Though, when you mention it, he might have gone for your throat when I told him about wearing your shirt in the forest."

He can't believe it, how can she be so naive, and then try to stick her tongue in his mouth? Amazing.

"Guh. I guess I really did miss a lot. What about the ring? Killik? The Kid? The Thompsons?" There were so many loose ends, they can't possibly have fixed themselves while he was passed the hell out.

"Soul, stop worrying." Maka presses a hand palm against his cheek. "Everything is fine. There was like, a big meeting about it and I wouldn't let up until they agreed to pardon you - Liz and Patty too. It took a little finagling, Kid wasn't particularly eager to let you go, but I think we both know who's the stubborn one among us. Killik was a little worse for wear from snake venom, but Doctor Stein whipped up a good antivenom in no time, so he's on the mend." He's forgotten just how chatty he is and how he sort of likes the way it fills the silence.

"A lot can happen in a week, I guess."

"That it can."

"If the Thompsons are pardoned, they're probably gonna give me a good beat down when they find me though." Soul sighs.

"Didn't I tell you: You have to stay alive so I can punch you properly." She squeezes his face a little harder than is strictly necessary.

He winces. "You're still mad then, huh?"

"For not letting me in on your stupid plan? Obviously," she scoffs. "Mostly for pulling that stupid martyr move." She pauses for a moment, searching over his face. He's probably still a little slackjawed from her smacking him a kiss right on the mouth. "I guess I should thank you also though… on both accounts."

"Okay." He certainly won't complain if thanking him includes getting smooched again.

She pats his face. "I need to go eat lunch with the kin- my father. Do you want me to bring you back anything good? Marie is probably going to want to stuff you full of oatmeal once she finds out you're awake."

"Marie? The lady from the shop?"

"She came to fix my hair, and stayed to keep Stein from poking extra pins in you for fun. Though, I suspect she actually likes arguing with him."

"Go figure." He doesn't even know the guy who's apparently been trying to poke pins in him, but he sounds like a real character. "I wouldn't say no to some real food though."

"Okay." Maka stands, shakes her hair out, and practically floats out of the room. It leaves him in peace to feel the rough stitches across his chest and drift back into sleep. There's no telling, how after so long of being unconscious, he can still be so damn tired.

The next few days are odd, to say the least, preparing himself mentally to have to leave while Maka just makes every effort to get closer to him. It's a little heart breaking. They're strolling by the water to see the docks being rebuilt when he breaks the silence.

"So, I guess I'm basically better."

"You're certainly moving around," Maka replies.

"I don't know when I should be leaving then."

"Leaving where?"

"Leaving the castle, I don't live here."

"You could," she says quietly.

That's not a proposal is it? They've known each other for less than a month, and while he likes spending time with her, a lot, it seems unconventional. "Huh? With you?"

"Kind of?" She turns to him and soon her face mirrors the contorted expression on his own. "Not like that, geez."

"Oh." He's not disappointed. _Who said disappointed?_

"I just wouldn't mind having you around."

"I wouldn't mind _being_ around. I could maybe even learn a respectable trade, be a knight or something."

"Fat chance; you're scared of spiders." A knobby shoulder bumps into his and she laughs, blonde hair fluttering around her face when she moves. It's a good look on her.

"Well, I could do something, at least," he grumbles, pride a little wounded but not irreparably. "Besides, you still haven't punched me properly."

"I guess you'll have to stick around until I do."

Maybe living in the castle at Shibusen won't be so bad. Despite being on the edge of a treacherous forest, and an ocean that may still contain one very pissed off sea dragon, being with Maka is like having a home again.


End file.
